Brady
by Aggie Escott
Summary: Reid centric. He meets with someone who claims....well, I'm not going to tell you! Just let it be said, it's not long before our Spence wishes he'd never met him! No slash ever! follows on from The Nature of Nurture but is stand alone R&R please
1. Chapter 1

Brady

Chapter 1

Reid left the BAU and walked back to his car. It had been a nasty case and he was glad it was over. It had involved children and that always un-nerved him; maybe not as overtly as it did Morgan, or the girls, but he did feel it.

It had been the first case he and Hotch had worked on since the Cross episode, and he had been afraid that his experience would adversely affect his ability. But with the team behind him, and Hotch figuratively holding his hand, he was feeling his rather fragile confidence returning.

His brain was doing its thing again. He had been terrified that after his ordeal, he wouldn't be able to do the very thing that he was in the BAU for. But he need not have worried.

His left arm was still a little stiff, but again, he wasn't in the BAU for his tough guy image. Morgan could more than cover that!

One thing that had been bothering him was flying. He hadn't been looking forward to travelling in the new jet. He hadn't wanted to add fear of flying to his ever growing list of anxiety disorders. He had felt his palms sweating when he sat in the plane. He rubbed them together nervously and He bit his bottom lip. But Aaron had understood, and he had sat next to him for the journey.

He couldn't imagine that Hotch had been nervous about it; he certainly hadn't shown any fear. But then did he ever?

It was good seeing Hotch taking the lead, stoic, unruffled, watching over him, taking care.

He was also pleased that, unless a case came up, they all had the rest of the week off. He was looking forward to reading some books, and driving. He had only moved back into his own place just before the case, and he had not had much of a chance to take his car out. He imagined a long open road and his foot down, windows open, wind blowing his hair. He smiled.

He thought about his Mum. Maybe he would fly out for a visit, take her a book.

It had been quite a while since he had seen her and he felt pangs of guilt. The longer he left it, the harder it became. Maybe he ought to try and make it a regular thing – once every six weeks or so, depending on any cases. His Mum probably wouldn't notice. A lot of the time when he did make it to see her, she had forgotten who he was.

But it would make him feel better.

He pointed the remote at the car and popped the locks. He swung his messenger bag off his shoulder and threw it into the car. As he walked round to the other side, he heard a voice behind him.

"Spencer Reid?"

He turned to face a man who he had not seen before. He stood slightly taller than Reid, long dark hair pulled back into a pony tail, and he was wearing motorcycle leathers. Reid did not know him, but there was something familiar about him…..especially around the eyes.

"Em……can Ihelp you?"

"Are you Spencer Reid?"

Reid's hand went to his gun and took a step back. "Who are you?"

The man took a step towards Reid, Reid took another step back.

"My name is Brady Reid. I am your brother."

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Can we talk?"

For a split second, Reid was unable to say anything. Then, "I don't have a brother."

Brady reached into a pocket. Reid tensed, his hand on his gun.

"I just want to show you something."

Very slowly, Brady took a photograph out of his pocket and held it out to Reid.

Spencer leaned forwards and took it.

The picture showed a dark haired woman smiling for the camera. Next to her stood a man that Reid instantly recognised as his father; a little older, not so much hair as Reid remembered, but there was no doubt. Between them, the young man who stood in front of him now. Spencer tried not to show his shock. He handed the photo back to Brady.

He had not seen his father since the day he had left. His Mum's words 'You are weak' still echoed down through time. Was this man claiming to be William's son?

Was it possible that he had a brother? That he really did have some family after all?

"Yes, we can talk." He said "Have you got transport?"

Brady nodded.

"Follow me then."

He guessed there would be no problem in talking, in fact his curiosity had been aroused. The photo could be a fake, but he needed to find out the truth.

But he didn't want this stranger in his home.

And he didn't want to be hanging around the deserted car park with this man either.

He got in his car quickly and lowered the window.

"We can go to the diner. It's not far."

Brady nodded. Reid closed the window and slowly drove towards the exit ramp.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

Brady walked back to his bike

He checked that Reid was driving and not watching him. He flipped open his mobile and hit the speed-dial

"I've made contact, Kath. He's asked me to follow him. We're going somewhere to talk."

"Does he believe you?"

"I don't think he's totally convinced, but the photos should do the trick. I'll call you when I know where we are going."

"Make sure you do, Brady. I want to be there."

Brady snapped his mobile closed. He was excited to be helping Kath.

The last three months with her had been a roller coaster ride of sex and lust. He was intoxicated by her, the feel of her hair, the smell of her skin, unable to imagine why she had picked him to spend time with.

It didn't matter to him that Spencer was his brother. She was what mattered, pleasing her, making her smile at him.

With a thrill of anticipation, he retrieved his helmet, and followed Reid up the ramp into the Quantico traffic.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Reid watched Brady in his rear view mirror.

Could this man really be his brother? It was certainly possible. His dad could have had another family to go to when he left.

Hotch always said not to speculate ahead of the facts. He decided that this was an especially good time to heed that advice.

He turned into the car park at the side of the diner. Brady pulled up his motorcycle next to the Volvo.

Spencer got out of the car, brimming with curiosity. Brady removed his helmet and put it on the bike seat.

"Ok," he said, "Let's get inside. We've got lots to talk about."

Spencer led the way into the diner.

"You get the coffee," Brady said. "I need to go to the men's room."

Spencer ordered the coffee and sat down in a corner booth. He wanted some privacy, but at the same time, he did not trust this man. He tried to think back to before his father had left. Were there any clues? He couldn't think of anything, but then, he had only been a child. Children, even genius children, can miss things. And it was a long time ago.

He wondered if his Mum had known anything about it. She would probably never know now. At least he wouldn't have to tell her.

He decided just to wait, and look at any evidence that Brady had for him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………...

Brady was on the phone, giving instructions to Kath on how to get to the diner.

"I'll show him the photographs, give him a bit of history. I will keep him here until everyone else has gone. When I see you leave, we'll follow."

"I'll get rid of any lighting in the car park."

"Ok Kath, I had better get back now. I don't want him to be suspicious. See you soon, Baby. I love you."

Kath broke the connection without saying it back. She actually despised him, a weak, pathetic man, so easy to use and manipulate. Still, she would not need him for much longer. She almost had what she wanted.

………………………………………………………………………………………...

The coffee arrived just as Brady slid into the booth opposite Spencer. He watched in amazement as Spencer spooned sugar into his mug.

"Well, we don't have that in common." he said drinking his coffee with no sugar.

He reached into his pocket and brought out an envelope with about ten pictures in and handed them to Spencer. He took his glasses out of his bag and looked through them. He examined them closely, looking for any evidence that they had been faked – direction of the light, length of shadows, but as far as he could see, without a computer, they were authentic.

"Can I keep these?" he said without looking up.

"Sure. I expect you will want to make sure they are genuine." said Brady. "I can assure you that they are."

The photographs showed the same three people. There was one of them sitting round a table, celebrating something. One of a family picnic, another of them on a beach.

Spencer felt a wave of rage towards his faithless father. He had never been on a family picnic, never swam in the sea or been on holiday with his Mum.

Spencer finally put the photographs down.

"So where is William now?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. It wasn't Brady's fault.

"Dad and Mum both died in a car accident six months ago. It's taken this long for me to find you."

Spencer absorbed this information. So William was dead.

He couldn't make himself be sorry. It was bad enough that he left a sick woman to bring up a child that had educational needs, but to run off to another family! Spencer felt a new betrayal, not just for himself, but for his Mum.

At least she would never have to cope with that pain.

"When were you born?" Let's see just how long this betrayal went on.

"I'm twenty two. Three and a half years younger than you."

It was at that moment that Spencer noticed that Brady was staring. Spencer turned to see what he was looking at.

A woman had just come into the diner. She was tall, athletic, with long black hair. She could have been attractive, if it hadn't been for her overdone make-up and sullen face. Spencer looked back at Brady. He waved his hand in front of his face.

"Uh…Brady…"

Kath glared at him and Brady realised that he had almost given the game away. He looked back to Spencer.

"Oh….sorry Spencer. I was miles away."

Spencer glanced back over to the woman again. She was taking no notice of them, giving the waitress her order. Spencer pushed the thought away.

"So, Brady, where did you live?" Spencer asked. "Where did William go?"

Spencer refused to call him Dad. The word should conjure up visions of happy families, Dad playing ball with his son. Like on the photos. Spencer had no such memories. In his mind, he had no father.

"We moved around a lot." said Brady. He didn't want to talk; he just wanted to get out of the diner.

Spencer noticed that the diner was empty now, apart from the woman. It was late, and the diner was about to close.

Then the woman got up and left.

That was Brady's cue. He stood up. Spencer caught his arm.

"Hold on, Brady. If you are my brother, I am going to want to get to know you." Spencer slid out of the booth, leaving the money on the table. He took one of his Fed cards out of his bag and gave it to Brady. "It's got my cell number on. Call me and we can meet for a drink or something!"

Spencer scooped the photographs into his bag. He would give them to Garcia to check. She might be able to get him some information on Brady. He didn't feel able to trust him. Not yet anyway.

He followed Brady out into the car park.

It was very dark outside. The street lights were out, and the lights went out in the diner.

Spencer had difficulty locating his car. "Brady, where are you?" he called.

There was no answer. Spencer suddenly felt un-nerved. He couldn't see or hear Brady. It was very dark, and very quiet. There was something wrong.

He felt for his keys in his bag. If he could just open the car, the interior light would come on.

Where were his keys? He screwed up his eyes, trying to see where he was going. With his arms straight out in front of him, he groped forwards towards where he thought his car was. He wasn't overly concerned about losing his keys, he just couldn't understand how. He had a spare key under the wheel arch. If he could just find the car!

Then a woman's voice said, "Spencer Reid"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. He turned towards the voice. Whoever this woman was, she knew him.

"W-what do you w-want? How d-do you know me?" He tried to sound confident, but his voice was shaking. He swung round with his arms outstretched, trying desperately to get his bearings, to touch something Now the lights were out in the diner, he wouldn't even be able to find his way back.

"Where are you?"

By way of an answer, she swung the baseball bat. It impacted with the side of Spencer's face. Spencer heard a crack as his cheek bone shattered and felt warm blood flow from his split cheek. He cried out in shock, and fell sideways onto the tarmac. He felt his bag being pulled off his shoulder.

He tried to crawl away. If he was being robbed, they had his bag. Maybe they'd just leave him.

He was on his hands and knees when he was hit again across his back. He rolled onto his side, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his head, trying to protect himself.

He was hit again. The blow was to the back of his head, but his hands were trying to protect his head. He felt bones break in his fingers.

Strong hands lifted him to his feet.

"Now I have you." The woman said.

She swung the baseball bat again hitting him in the solar plexus. The strong hands released him, and he crumpled to the floor.

Spencer Reid passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Just dump him there. I want to talk to you before I do anything else."

Brady was carrying Spencer over his shoulder. He bent down and started to lower him onto the dirty floor.

"I said dump him!" She kicked Spencer's inert body under the chin, and he hit the ground. Brady stood up and looked down at Spencer. Conflicting feelings were running through him. Kath pulled him away.

"Fetch some water. I want him awake."

Meekly Brady left the room. Kath looked down at Spencer's prone form.

"I hate you!" she spat. "I'll make you sorry for what you did."

Brady returned with a bucket of cold water. Without hesitation, she threw the water over Spencer and left the room and locked the door.

She clipped the key to her belt, and pushing Brady in front of her, they went down the stairs.

The house was sparsely furnished, but then, this house wasn't here for the comfort of the occupiers. For Kath, it had other, far more important uses. She stood in the middle of the bare room.

"How dare you question me!" she shouted at Brady.

Brady hung his head. "I'm so sorry, Kath, but I thought you were going to kill him!"

"And what if I had? He's mine. I will do as I please with him." She moved close to Brady and touched his face. She spoke gently to him. "Do you understand, don't you, Brady?"

Brady's body shuddered with excitement. "Yes," he whispered, entwining his fingers in her thick hair. "I understand." He lowered his head and kissed her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Spencer woke suddenly as the water hit him. His body was in distress from the beating and his thoughts were confused. He closed his eyes again, and tried to focus. He tried to remember what had happened.

He could remember being in the car park, trying to find the car. He could remember being disoriented by the darkness and silence, and he could remember being hit with something – a pipe or baseball bat?

There was a woman he saw in the diner. Was that the woman who spoke to him? He didn't know.

Who the hell was she? Why had she brought him here?

He lay still for a long time trying to figure things out, assess his situation. He had been beaten and very likely had some broken bones. His hair and the left side of his face were stiff with blood, and when he breathed, it felt as if he was being stabbed in the back. He kept his breathing shallow trying to prevent his broken ribs doing any more damage. He couldn't move his jaw, and his left eye was shut. He felt his teeth with his tongue. They were all there, but some were loose. The inside of his cheek tasted metallic.

He was very cold where he had had water thrown on him. He thought about moving around in the room, to try to warm up, but the room was dark and he didn't want to move.

He tried to sit up. He pushed on the floor with his hands and pain shot up his arms. He cried out and collapsed back onto the floor. He held his hands close to his face and tried to focus on them, to examine them, but it was too dark to see anything. He tried to wiggle his fingers but all that succeeded in doing was to make him cry out in pain. He could feel that some of his fingers were broken.

He sat up very carefully, and shuffled across the floor so that his back was against the wall. He rested his hands palms up on his lap.

The effort brought bile into his throat, and Spencer vomited. Broken ribs tore muscle in his back, and tears of pain sprang up into his eyes. When the paroxysms abated, and there was nothing left inside him to come out, he leaned back against the wall. Tears and blood dripped from his chin onto his hands.

The support of the wall was a mixed relief. It hurt his back when he leaned on it but when he tried sitting straight, that hurt too. His head thumped with every heartbeat and his cheek throbbed.

He sat shivering on the floor, dazed by the beating, wanting to know why, unable to think of anything. He concentrated on breathing and not hurting.

After a while, he noticed that the room was becoming lighter. The sun was coming up. He saw the square of the window for the first time.

He checked his hands again. He could only see properly out of his right eye, his left eye was swollen and dried blood stuck his eyelids together.

All his fingers were split and bruised, but it looked like the middle two fingers of each hand were the most damaged, twisted and broken.

He looked around the room in the increasing light.

The room was empty. Bare floorboards, peeling and cracked plaster. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the room. The ceiling sloped downwards as if it was an attic room and there was a thick wooden beam at the highest point.

There was a small window which, he noted, had no glass in it.

He twisted onto his knees and stood up shakily, using his elbows as leverage. He noticed that his shoes were gone. He padded slowly and carefully across the floor to the window and looked out..

He did not recognize where he was. He could not see any roads or indeed any sign of life at all. Just trees. Where-ever this house was, it wasn't in Quantico. He was three floors up, the wall outside smooth. He looked up. He could probably reach the eaves, pull himself onto the roof.

That is if he didn't have broken fingers and cracked ribs.

No, the only way out was through the door.

The effort of standing for so long made him dizzy. Very slowly he turned to face the door. Carefully, holding his breath, he slid down the wall and sat under the window. He was sweating from exertion, and shivering with cold.

All he could do now was wait until whoever this person was came back. He thought of shouting for whoever it was to come up. But with his cracked cheek bone and ribs, he doubted that he could shout loud enough.

That and he didn't think he would survive another beating. The longer it took for the next round, the longer he had to recover.

He curled up onto his right side and tried not to think.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brady and Kath lay on the mattress. She hated this – so squalid. But it had to be done. And it excited her, getting her ready for visiting her captive upstairs. The thought of what she was going to do gave her an adrenalin rush.

Brady was right. If he hadn't stopped her, she might well have killed Spencer Reid in the car park, and that would have spoilt so much. It would hardly have been an adequate punishment for what he had done to her.

She needed him to suffer, to feel some of the pain that she had felt. Remembering made her sad again, and she didn't want to feel sad. This was her time. She was going to enjoy it.

She turned and looked at Brady. He did look nice, she thought. Big brown shadowed eyes, full soft lips, high cheek bones, thick wavy hair.

Yes, she thought. It could have been a lot worse.

She knelt up on the bed, and he reached up to her. She held his wrists and firmly pushed him away.

"We've got work to do." She said.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Aaron Hotchner had stayed at the BAU all night. He hated going back to the big empty house, and since Reid had moved back into his own place, he was lonelier than ever.

He drove through the quiet early morning streets of Quantico, not quite sure what he was going to do for the next few days.

He really wanted to see Jack. He had asked Haley if his son could come and stay for a couple of days, but she said no.

"…and what happens if you have to drop everything and rush off to work? What happens then, Aaron? No. You can't have him."

And she hung up on him.

Hotch had sat alone in his office for a while after that. He cried a little, for the life that had got away from him, and fell asleep with his head on his folded arms, resting on his desk.

He was still going over the conversation in his mind, wondering how he could have made it turn out better, when he drove past the diner. He noticed the yellow crime scene tape first. As he drove by his thoughts were, 'Thank goodness they didn't want me there.'

Then he saw the car.

With a squeal of tyres, he slued the car round in the street and screeched to a stop.

Hotch leaped out of the car and ran to the tape. He was about to cross it when a cop came over.

"Please step back, Sir. This is a crime scene."

Aaron took out his ID and gave the cop a look that would melt granite.

"F-B-I" he said slowly as if to a child. He pushed past the cop and took out his mobile.

"Morgan. Get down here to the OK Diner. And call the others."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The door opened. Spencer lifted his head wearily. His joints were stiff from the cold, and he had difficulty focusing.

The woman ignored Spencer. It was the first time he'd seen her. It was the woman from the diner. He saw Brady behind her, and remembered the way he had looked at her.

"Brady?" he reached out his hand to him. "Why are you doing this?"

The woman kicked his hand away. Spencer looked up to see what she was doing. It was the first time he had noticed the heavy ring screwed into the beam. His stomach knotted with anxiety.

"Ok, Brady, stand him up."

Brady went across to Spencer and lifted him to his feet. Spencer tried not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, but the scream escaped his lips before he could stop it.

Brady stood holding Spencer under the arms.

"Tie him, then!" shouted the woman, "Like I showed you!"

Spencer painfully turned his head, trying to look at Brady.

"Please. You don't have to do this." his face hurt when he spoke, shooting pains into his head. "Please, if you are my brother…"

The woman came over to them and slapped Spencer across the face.

"Shut up!" she hissed at him, "or I will cut your tongue out!"

He bit his bottom lip in fear. His could taste blood where his lip had split as she hit him. He lowered his head so that she couldn't see his tears, but they washed through the dried blood on his face and dripped onto the floor, staining the boards pink.

He felt his hands being cuffed behind his back. He was dragged over to stand under the ring.

He saw for the first time that a rope had been threaded through the ring. One end was hanging freely behind his back. The other was in her hand.

Spencer's breathing came in shallow frightened gasps as he felt the rope being attached to the cuffs.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hotch looked round the crime scene while he waited for the others. The first thing he noticed was Reid's messenger bag.

He turned to the CSI working on the scene. "Has this been photographed?" he asked. The CSI said yes and handed Hotch a pair of gloves.

Hotch picked up the bag and looked inside. He took out the bundle of photographs and started to look through them. He didn't know any of the people in the pictures, but the young man in the photo looked like he could be related to Reid. The facial structure was very similar, although not so clean cut. He turned the pictures over, but there was no writing on them. He looked into the bag again.

His keys were missing. Looking round on the ground, he saw them at the edge of the car park. He called the CSI over to photograph them, then he picked them up.

They were across the car park from the car, nowhere near the diner. So he couldn't have just dropped them.

He crossed to the car. The doors were locked; there were no obvious signs of struggle, no visible blood in the car.

In the middle of the car park a CSI was on his knees, checking out a dark stain.

"Blood?" asked Hotch. The CSI nodded without looking up.

Hotch went over to the cop in charge.

"What else have you found?"

The cop reached into the back of the SUV and took out an evidence bag. He handed it to Hotch.

The bag held a baseball bat. The wood was split lengthways, hair and blood adhering to it.

Hotch felt sick.

"It's one of my men."  
"Oh man I'm really sorry to hear that. You want in on the investigation?"

"Just try and keep me out."

A car pulled up. Morgan, JJ and Emily got out.

"What the hell's going on!" said Morgan. "That's Reid's car!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brady had left the room. He had kissed her passionately, smudging her perfect lipstick. Then she asked him to leave. He hadn't gone willingly, but the woman had some kind of hold over him, and when she raised her voice, he left and shut the door.

He thought he heard a car drive off.

So he was now alone in the house with this woman. He tried to stand straight and look at her. It was difficult, because when he straightened his back, he felt the ends of his ribs grind together.

He really didn't want to cry out, but each breath came out in a soft whimper. The tears that coursed down his face stung the split in his cheek and lip.

But he looked straight at her, and saw a burning hatred.

"What have I d-done to you?"

"You murdered my Father!" she shrieked.

Before he could think about that, she pulled the rope. His arms were yanked up behind him, and he bent forwards.

He screamed. He couldn't help it. He tried to keep his feet on the floor, but his legs swung backwards. His weight was being taken by his arms. He tried to speak, but he could only cry out in agony. His shoulders felt as if they were dislocating and his left elbow was on fire

He hung there struggling to breathe for what felt like an eternity. Then suddenly, she lowered him so that he could reach the floor with his toes. He tried to look up at her, but he was still bent forward. All he could see was the floor.

He tried to think.

He had killed two people. Cross was one. She couldn't be his daughter. She was too old.

The other was Philip Dowd.

"Philip Dowd was your father?"

She attached the rope to a ring on the wall and advanced on him.

He cringed, waiting for the next assault, but it didn't come. He tried to twist round to look at her but she was behind him.

She put her hands in his hair. It was a sensual, almost erotic touch. He tried to pull away, but it was impossible without putting weight on his arms again. Then suddenly she clutched his hair and yanked his head back.

"Philip Dowd was my father. And you are going to pay for his murder!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Garcia came in to the room where the others looking through copies of the photographs that Hotch had found in Reid's messenger bag.

"I might have something!"

She opened the laptop and put it on the table. "This is the security surveillance video of the car park last night." She pointed the remote control at the computer and the picture sprang to life. Like all surveillance videos, the picture was grainy, but the two people in the video were instantly recognizable.

"Whoever it is, Reid does not look as if he were expecting to meet him." said Emily. "Look how he has his hand on his gun the whole time."

"And he's backing away from him."

"But he's driving off alone," said Hotch. "Wait to see if he was followed."

"Yes! There! He's on a bike!" said Morgan. He turned to Garcia. "Can you get anything on the bike?"

"Can and did, but it won't do any good. The bike was stolen." Then she added, "But I might be able to get something on the actual photographs. I'll go check on it."

"Morgan, you and Emily go to the diner and talk to the staff. I want to know what time Reid left, who he left with, who else was there…"

They were out of the room before he had finished speaking.

"JJ, get in touch with the crime lab. I want to know everything they've got!"

Hotch stood up and started pacing. Who the hell was this man?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

She held onto his hair, pulling his head up. Spencer's shoulders and neck pulled to their limit, muscles screamed for relief. His breathing came in short gasps.

He knew he had to keep strong through this. His own words came back to him from all those years ago:

'I'm not weak.'

When he thought he couldn't take it any more, as dark shadows began to dance before his eyes and he thought he was about to pass out, she released him.

His head fell forward. He sucked in air with relief.

"Please," his voice barely audible, "Let me up. Let me speak with you."

"There is nothing you could say that I would possibly want to hear." She spoke in low angry tones. She turned away from him and went to the door.

Spencer licked his dry swollen lips. "Please, at lease let me have a drink."

"Ah yes. A drink. I think I can manage that."

She left the room but was soon back.

"A drink." She laughed.

She threw the water at him.

"That is about as close as you're going to get." She laughed, and Spencer heard the door close.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brady drove round the narrow woodland tracks, his head a confused mixture of conflicting emotions.

He wanted Kath so much. But now she was alone in the house with another man. She had said she needed to punish him, kill him. So why could he not be there? Why had she sent him away?

He knew he was a weak, pathetic man. Kath had told him often enough. She had no reason to lie.

And she was right. When she hit him, he always deserved it.

But then, she was always sorry, took him to bed, loved him, helped him to see how much he needed her, promising she would not hurt him again.

But then he would provoke her, and the cycle would start again.

He started the car. She didn't like him to stay away too long.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Spencer shivered in the cold. His hair hung over his face, dripping water onto the floor. He tilted his head and sucked at his hair. The water tasted of his blood.

He tried to move, but he knew it would be impossible. Although his feet could touch the floor, his arms were still pulled upwards. Sometimes his feet would slip, and his arms would take his weight again.

He scrunched up his toes, in an attempt to grip the floor.

The door opened. He tried to look up to see who had come in, but it was impossible.

"Please," he croaked. "Please loosen the rope."

Suddenly the rope was released and Spencer fell hard onto the floor. He screamed as his injured muscles moved.

"Be quiet. You'll wake her!"

He looked up at Brady. "Please, let me go."

"I can't. She won't let me."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Kath stood at the door, her fists clenched in rage.

Brady jumped away from Spencer, fear in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kath. I just wanted to talk to him."

She raised her fist at Brady, who slunk into a corner. Kath rolled Spencer onto his front and undid the cuffs. Then she rolled him back and refastened them in front of him. Spencer moaned in pain as blood rushed into his hands and around his broken fingers.

Kath took the end of the rope and hauled him into an upright position, his arms above his head, feet on the floor.

She looked at Brady, and gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Stepping close to Spencer, she put her hand under his chin, and lifted his face to look at her. She took a cloth from her pocket and tenderly wiped the blood from Spencer's eyes. Very gently she put her hand to the back of his head and pulled him towards her.

Spencer tried to pull away, but he was too weak.

To his horror, she began to kiss him. Her lips sucked on his, tongue probed his mouth.

She drew away, stroked his face.

"Did you like that?"

Spencer stared at her. He knew what she was doing. He could hear Brady behind him, pleading with her to stop.

Her eyes were like ice. Hard, unfeeling, as she began to stroke him. She undid the buttons on his shirt and kissed his chest.

He tried again to pull away, but she put her arm around his waist and held him. Her hand moved down and rested on his hip, softly caressing, brushing his skin. Her lips touching, kissing.

Spencer's breathing shuddered. He felt light headed as he struggled for control.

To his dismay, he felt his body respond to her.

She pulled back. "Look at you! You're filth!"

Drawing back her fist, she punched him hard in the stomach where seconds before she had been kissing him.

His knees buckled, and his head fell forward. He whimpered in confusion.

"P-please." He stammered. "Please let me g-go."  
He heard the door slam as she left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hotch looked through the file JJ had given him.

"There were three sets of prints on the photos." said JJ.

"Yes," said Hotch, reading the report. "Reid's, an unknown, and ……" He looked at JJ. "Are you sure this is right? Has Garcia checked it?"

JJ nodded. "Definitely. The prints are from a woman named Kath Dowd. And we've got a current address."

"Send her picture to Morgan's cell, and tell them to meet us there."

………………………………………………………………………………………...

Spencer let the cuff take his weight. His stomach hurt, and standing hurt, and his arms hurt. He felt blood run down his arms from where the cuffs cut his white skin, pooling at his shoulders. He felt exhausted, wanting to sleep but afraid to close his eyes.

Couldn't sleep with his arms tied. Needed to lie down.

He didn't want to cry, but he had no power left. His body was doing what it wanted, he had no control.

He placed his feet on the floor, lifted his head and cried out. "Please! P-please…help me…"

Spencer's tears ran down his face.

"Please…." He sobbed softly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brady sat in the corner of the room and watched. Finally, he approached Spencer.

Spencer hadn't realised he was still there.

"I-I thought you'd gone."

"I saw what you did." Brady's eyes were angry. "I saw you let her touch you. Why?"

"I'm s-so s-sorry, Brady. I c-couldn't help it." Spencer's eyes huge, meeting Brady's. "P-please let me down. I need to sleep."

"You know I want her. But soon, when she's finished, and you are dead, you won't touch her again."

"Brady. Please…please c-call my friends. If you…..if you c-can't help me, call them. Let them…" Spencer's voice pleading. If only he could get through.

"You murdered her father." Brady said, his face inches from Spencer's. "She told me."

"But he was a killer. He had killed two people, he was about to shoot my partner." _Spencer felt again the pain in his body where Aaron had kicked him the anguish he felt when Philip Dowd had fallen. _

Spencer lowered his head.

Brady turned from him and went to the door. Spencer watched as he opened the door. "Please." Hardly more than a whisper.

As Brady left, he pulled at the rope on the ring, and released it.

Spencer crashed to the floor as the door slammed.

He didn't hear a key in the lock.

If he could only make his muscles work…….

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"FBI!"

They crashed through the door of Kath's apartment.

"All rooms clear." Morgan said. "No sign that Reid has ever been here."

"Keep looking." said Hotch, picking up a pile of papers from the table. "There's got to be something here."

"There's this." JJ was holding a lap top. "It was in the desk. I'll get it back to Garcia."

"Emily and I will finish up here, and meet you back at the BAU."

As JJ left, Emily called from the bedroom. "I've found something!"

Emily was leafing through an envelope of photographs. "Some of these are the same as the ones we got from Reid's bag," she said, handing some to Hotch and Morgan, "But not all of them."

The pictures showed the young man from the other pictures, with Kath Dowd. They were not nice pictures. Hotch gave his back to Emily, who returned them to the envelope.

"So now we know they were definitely working together." Morgan said, his hands tightening on the photos.

"Have Garcia run his image through her facial recognition software." Hotch said, his voice was calm, but his eyes were worried.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Spencer lay still on his side on the wet floor. His arms were still above his head, but the pain of moving them was too much. He knew that his brother and Dowd were still in the house. He had not heard a car, and sometimes he could hear them downstairs.

But they were not watching him.

Spencer gritted his teeth and slowly lowered his arms until they were at ninety degrees to his body. His muscles screamed and soft cries escaped his lips. But he knew that this might be his only chance to escape.

Painfully, he dragged himself to the door. Every movement shot pain through him. He was sure he was bleeding internally from his ribs, and his belly was one huge bruise, tender and hot. Something inside was badly damaged, he couldn't just lay there on the floor and bleed to death. But each movement was agony.

He had to get help.

He pulled himself up to open the door, trying not to scream in pain. The door opened, and he fell through onto his back. He rolled onto his side and whimpered.

_Please, just don't let them hear me._

Slowly, his breathing shallow and irregular he inched his way to the top of the stairs.

He looked down from the top step;. His head swam at the thought of trying to get down without falling.

If he fell, there was a good chance that he would die, at the very least, Dowd would hear him.

Maybe Brady would help him. He had let the rope down.

But he knew he couldn't count on it.

He lay on his front and carefully lowered his legs over the edge. With his knees on the second step down, he rested his head on the floor. Concentrating on breathing, trying to stop shaking, terrified that Dowd would come and find him.

Using his elbows to take the strain, one at a time, he moved his knees down a step. The edges of the steps scraped the skin off his shins and chest and arms, soaking through his clothes, smearing his blood on the stairs.

He had to keep moving.

He listened. He could hear Dowd and Brady. He still had time.

Next step.

The stair creaked. Spencer froze.

Waited.

No-one came.

Next step.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Brady Reid?" Morgan was having a hard time with this one. "His brother?"

"Well, half brother, technically. Same father."

"It looks as if Dowd and Reid's brother are working together on this." said Hotch. "So we need to find where they've taken him. And I think we need to hurry. Garcia…."

She turned back to her screens. "I'm on it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fifth step.

Spencer could not use his hands.

There was no way he could save himself.

Slipping in his own blood, he lost his grip and slid.

He tried to curl himself up, to protect himself, but it hurt too much.

He landed on his back, winded, in pain.

Unable to move. Hands above his head, still bound.

Brady had told him she planned to kill him.

Spencer lay there, waiting.

And there was nothing he could do.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kath pushed Brady off.

"What was that?" she started to get off the mattress.

"Please stay!" Brady was panicking. He knew what it was. He grabbed her arm. "Don't go."

"Stop your whining!" She pushed him away. He followed her out, anxiously biting his hand. He saw Spencer at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to distract her.

But she had seen him.

She grabbed Spencer's hair and started to drag him back up the stairs. Spencer weakly tried to hold her wrists with his broken fingers. He cried out, tried to turn over and crawl after her, to take his weight on his knees, not his hair. Each step tore at his back. He could feel his hair being ripped out. Groaning in agony, he pressed onto his scalp with his bound wrists.

"I am going to kill you now!" she shrieked.

Across the hall and back into the room. A smear of his blood left on the floorboards.

She dropped him on the floor of his prison, kicking him so that he rolled over into the corner.

He lay still, afraid to move, waiting for the final strike that would end his misery.

She walked back to the door.

"Brady. I want to talk to you!"

Spencer heard Brady's footsteps. He heard the door close.

Then he heard the sound of her hitting him.

Spencer moved his head to see what was happening.

Her hands were joined in a fist. Brady was kneeling in front of her, crying.

"I'm sorry, Kath. He's my brother." He whimpered. "I didn't want you to hurt him any more."

"You're pathetic! Call yourself a man? You are a worm!" Enraged, she pushed him over. He stayed where he landed. He made no attempt to protect himself.

"Please, Kath, I love you."

"Get up!"

Brady stood shakily, and put his arms out to her.

"Please, Kath. Let's go back down stairs. I need you so much."

Brady reached out with trembling hands. He flinched as she took a step towards him, but she allowed herself to be drawn to him, and he kissed her.

Glancing back at Spencer, she smiled.

A nasty lipstick smile.

"I'll come back for you, murderer."

She locked the door.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Garcia had hooked Dowd's laptop up to her own network, scanning the hard drive, her fingers flying across the keys.

Suddenly she stopped.

"Hey guys! I think I may have something here!" She called the others into her little domain.

"What is it Baby Girl?"

"There are lots of files on this hard drive containing lists of properties for rent outside the city." She turned her chair round. "I cross checked on the real estate files. Most of them have been let out, but one of them is going to be worth checking." She handed Hotch a print-out. "It's been let to a woman named Katherine Philips."

Hotch looked at the print-out.

"A large run down property on the edge of town." He looked at the others. "This could be it!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Spencer moved onto a sitting position and faced the door. He was not going to lie there meekly and wait for her to return and kill him. She was going to have to look at him while she did it.

She came back into the room. Coming over to Spencer, without looking him in the eyes, she undid the blood stained rope from the cuffs. Brady had dragged a chair over to stand under the beam. Dowd stood in the chair and threaded the rope back through the ring.

One end she attached to the ring on the wall.

The other end she tied into a slip knot.

Spencer watched.

"Sit on the chair!" she yelled at him.

"I c-can't. Hurts." He breathed. He understood. He was to be executed. And Hotch would never know what happened to him.

They wouldn't miss him for three days.

And by then his body would be unrecognizable.

She grabbed his cuffs and dragged him to the chair. She fastened rope around his waist and to the cuffs, and tied his legs together at the ankles.

She called Brady over. He stood before her, cringing.

"Get him on the chair."

Brady picked Spencer up under his arms.

"Please, don't do this. Don't be a part of this." Spencer pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Spencer, I have to."

He sat Spencer on the chair and stood back.

"Now the rope."

Brady slipped the loop over Spencer's head, and fastened the slip knot at his throat. Spencer looked up at him with big frightened eyes. Brady looked away, refused to look at him.

Dowd moved close to him, and kissed him again.

"You know you are going to die now." She whispered in his ear. Her hands began to explore his body, her lips on his, drinking in his fear, reveling in his distress.

Then she stood back.

"Now stand."

Spencer shook his head. "No." he said softly.

She tugged at the rope. The noose tightened slightly.

Spencer choked.

"I won't stand."

She hit him hard across the mouth, jerking his head back

The knot tightened.

"Brady! Stand him on the chair."

Brady lifted Spencer up onto the chair. She pulled the slack rope tight. Spencer stood on the chair, swaying, struggling to keep upright, knowing that a slip would be fatal.

She stood in front of him.

"It's such a waste." She sighed, stroking his legs.

Spencer looked straight ahead, unblinking, silent tears falling.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brady sat in the corner. He couldn't watch this.

He had no idea this would hurt him so much. He didn't even know this man.

He wrapped his arms around his knees, head down.

He didn't want to see Kath touching Spencer again, the way she touched him.

Conflicting emotions left him bewildered.

When Spencer was dead, though, everything would be all right again. She would be his, her lips and hands would be his alone again.

He screwed his eyes closed so that he wouldn't cry.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"FBI"

Hotch and Morgan crashed into the room.

Dowd was standing next to the chair, her hand on the back of it. She showed no fear, no emotion.

"Please leave," she tightened her grip, "Or your friend will die."

Morgan raised his gun.

"Move. Away. From. The. Chair." Hotch spoke slowly, deliberately, gun trained.

She made as if to obey, as if to step back. As she did so, she snatched the chair away.

Morgan squeezed the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8

_P. B. Shelley wrote, 'Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Chapter 8

Spencer heard Hotch and Morgan. He heard a gunshot.

He felt the chair being jerked out from beneath his feet, and he swung in the air. His body twisted on the rope, trying to move his hands to his neck, but they were tied too well.

The noose tightened on his throat, cutting into flesh, cutting off his life.

Eyes wide, he opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound.

He choked, his eyes rolled upwards.

The world went black.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dowd's head jerked forwards. The back of her head exploded in a mess of red and grey wetness, spraying Brady with blood and brains.

Brady screamed as parts of her dripped off his face.

Hotch ran to Spencer, catching him, taking his weight. Emily released the rope from the wall and took out her mobile.

Hotch lay Spencer on the floor, desperately tearing at the rope on his neck.

"Help me here. I can't get this off!"

Spencer was writhing on the floor fighting for breath, making no sound, eyes wide, staring at Aaron.

"Hang on, Spence!" Aaron dug his fingers into Spencer's skin behind the rope. Spencer choked and gagged and his lips turned blue, eyes watered.

Aaron pulled at the rope and at last it loosened.

Spencer cried out with relief as air rushed into his lungs. Aaron held him against his body in a sitting position, and Spencer coughed and spat blood. Aaron held his head and removed the ropes from his waist and ankles.

"We'll have to get some bolt cutters on the cuffs." he said.

Morgan stooped beside Hotch and pushed Spencer's hair off his face. Spencer's eyes were streaming, blood running down his chin.

"Ahh kid. Thought we'd lost you then!"

Spence closed his eyes.

Safe.

Brady was sitting in the corner, cradling what was left of Kath's head in his lap. He rocked her in his arms, moaning, keening over her.

"Get him out of here."

"Please," croaked Spencer, "let me talk to him."

Aaron inclined hit head. "Ok."

Spencer crawled to Brady and put his hand out to his brother. "I'll help you, Brady."

Brady looked at Spencer. "But why would you do that?"

"You're my brother." He said softly.

"I don't want a brother!" he said with hate filled eyes. "I don't need a brother! Look what you have done! You didn't have to kill her."

Brady smacked Spencer around the face. Spencer touched his lip with the back of his hand. Tears stung his eyes.

"I hate you. You have taken from me the only thing I ever wanted. You have killed her."

Morgan went to get up; Hotch put his hand out to stop him.

"Please let us help you." Spencer's throat hurt. His words barely audible. He coughed.

Brady went back to Dowd, stroking and rocking and keening in his grief

Spencer lowered his head, too exhausted to say any more.

Very carefully, Brady lowered Dowd's head to the floor. Sobbing he went to the window. Spencer knew at once what his intention was.

"Brady, please. Let's just talk about it." His voice a whisper.

Brady sat on the window sill.

"Don't, Brady." Spencer tried to appeal to him. "Please let me help you!"

"You didn't have to kill her."

Brady looked out of the window, and then, without a sound, rocked back, and fell.

"No…." Spencer tried to crawl to the window. Then Aaron was there, putting his arm around him, holding him.

Spencer clung to him and cried.

He wept on Aarons shoulder for his brother, for his Mum, for what might have been.

He sobbed and cried and choked, and Aaron held him.

And Spencer knew.

This was his family.


End file.
